Bent, Crooked and Twisted - Escalante River

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"Say that I starved; that I was lost and weary: That I was burned and blinded by the desert sun; Footsore, thirsty, sick with strange diseased; Lonely and wet and cold, but that I kept my dream!" 

Everett Ruess

It's hard to introduce a river like the Escalante...certainly not mighty like it's neighbor, the Colorado.  Neither reliable or controlled,  it's the result of 320 square miles of red rock drainage.  It picks up the confluence of Calf Creek and Boulder Creek with periodic feeding from the many washes and side canyons.

Because of its remote beauties and stunning landscapes it's no wonder that this river is a unique prize for river runners.  Seasonal runoff's that support this river also add to the complexity of a successful visit. Most people won't even attempt this river if the flow does not meet or exceed the recommended flow of 50 cfs at the USGS gauging station several miles above stream from the put-in.  Following these guidelines makes this river runnable an average of 1 every 5 years, with possible stretches of double that during dry seasons.

Another consideration that also prevents groups from floating this river is it's remote landscape with miles of sand and stone that have few trails that reach all the way to the rivers edge.  This means a self-rescue is your only way out to roads miles from the river.  In many places the sheer stone cliffs drop hundreds of feet from the top straight into the river making an exit impossible.  The further you progress down stream the river becomes home to huge boulders dislodged from above.  These massive obstacles, sometime the size of cars, make the already twisted path complicated to navigate.

The river itself runs the same orange and brown that surrounds the river with the silt it constantly carries.  In an area where water is so scare, this becomes your only or easiest drinking solution on some stretches.  The smell alone may turn some people away.  Any water rescued should be treated before consumption.  On every trip I have found dead animals and litter spread from flooding along the route.

In many places the river is intruded by invasive Russian Olive trees that have washed down stream from higher elevations and chocked out slower growing native plants along the banks.  Although several efforts have been completed or underway, these are a nuisance that can't be avoided.  In areas where they have been cut down they often end up end the water where they become more problematic and less avoidable.  Looking in the above photo you can see these almost grey leaf branches on both sides of the stream bed.

The final question for anyone attempting this river becomes the take-out.  Only 2 options are available for anyone considering the entire length.  I have heard of people using Fence Canyon in the Egypt 3 area as a take-out for cutting the trip in half, but having done this hike myself several times, with a boat this would be even more difficult than the Crack-in-the-wall route.  The take-out would be one of the following:  Crack-in-the-wall or a pickup on Lake Powell.  Those willing to pack out should leave a whole day to transfer gear from the river to trail head an plan on 2 trips to get everything out.  From there it's a dirt road back to Escalante.  Leaving a ride at the trail head or scheduling a pick up from one of the many services in town are a must.  The second option would be to continue the roughly 5 miles to Explorer Canyon and meet a scheduled pickup from the ferry services available from Bullfrog Marina.  The take off is a little more than an hour and costs around 400 dollars for a group of 2.

River Swimming - An Introduction

Its amazing what bad experiences can teach you.  As I made my approach into my last stretch of the river that day several things raced through my head.  I have already pointed out the first 5 critical errors of the day and what I would do next certainly added to that list.

Time slows down in those moments but never stops completely.  I remember quickly analyzing the size of the branches, then the amount of the tree in the water. Suddenly the door pushed open to the trouble approaching.  With only feet to go my best attempt seemed to be inside the boat protected from the branches.

In a little vessel any move creates a response in stability...as I slunk into the lower reaches of the bow my actions were no exception.  Still not being completely inside and now knowing that doing this would be almost impossible I left myself no time for the coming branches.

As sticks lift out of the water all kinds of things may be attached to them.  Leaves, moss or small creations seem to be common.  I only mention that here because one of these I'm sure was my final undoing.  As something wet, cold and slimy rubbed my cheek I perched to the left throwing the boat in the same direction.  Well implanted in the trees at this point the continued forward motion was all that it took.

I think I only half touched down the first time, the coldness of the water I'm sure was plenty to motivate me strongly in the opposite direction.  This was short lived with the new found weight of the boat and a second time I lisped to the left.  Without a sound I entered the water, not from bravery mind you but from the icy temperature of the water now holding me hostage.  I was directly behind my boat which was still floating above water.

With all attention focused on the tree limb a second failed observation was the dramatically decreased width and sudden increased in speed the water made in parallel with the branch.  As I struggled to understand my new surroundings the reality of the situation was only beginning to set in.  With a swift kick of the leg however my reality was set, rocks, big submerged boulders somewhere under the waters surface had just rudely introduced themselves to my leg.

In that moment I was suddenly calm...okay not calm but by no means willing to take another rock from my movements.  The next few feet drifted along slowly and at one point I tried to sit atop my kayak, which pushed it under the water completely, slowing it down as it hovered just under the surface. I know knew what had to be done and cautiously I put the first foot down.  One hand on the boat and one swinging side to side in the water in front of my like a snake.

Arriving at the right bank was not the complete satisfaction I was looking for at that point.  The shoulder cuts abruptly upward to a bike trail on that side.  With no where to stand and now shaking with cold I try several times to pull the boat up the bank and out of the water.  Again and again I try growing colder and colder with each attempt.

With just enough of the boat out to keep it from floating away I turn attention to my clothes quickly becoming stiff with frost.  First the hoodie, then the jeans until only the under layers are displayed to the world.  Being a popular bike trail I have gained an audience.  It was the teenagers in the group that finally helped me drain the boat and pull it up on the trail.

Walking is an alright way to get or stay warm, it's not great - just alright.  It's also surprising how survival trumps all other things, including new purchases.  I think it was my girlfriends expression when I finally walked into the take out area that I remember the most.  This may be because our relationship was still at one of those new places and maybe I hadn't seen disappointment yet.  She will deny it, but if I was okay weren't her first words.

Adventure Training - Wet, Cold and Shivering

It's all to do with the training: you can do a lot if you're properly trained. - Elizabeth II

 All of Utah's rivers are fed by snow capped mountains that line the state primarily from the north and south.   Depending on the year a river may have ice on it until April or even May.  This makes learning a new sport on the water an extra challenge considering that many Utah rivers can't compete in size or flow with the rivers of most other states.

It was somewhere in March or April with my boat tied on to the Xterra with tie-downs and my girlfriend in the passenger seat to act as shuttle I headed out for my very first kayaking trip to the banks of the lower Provo River.  Much of the year this river runs low enough in many spots that a visitor could easily cross it's banks by foot.  Some portions pool into short deep sections before the river bends and turns.  There are very few areas on the bottom section where the water is forced to rush and move.

It was with this reassurance that I pushed off on my maiden voyage, my pulse racing with a body of enthusiasm much like a child.  After all I had waited years for this, dreamed and forgotten many times the wonder of floating off on some body of water and here I was, small and well known, but an adventure none the less.

Spending just a second evaluating the picture above, taken while practicing briefly on still water that day before heading to the river, one can note several key problems with the decisions made on this first trip.  Perhaps first might be the emergency paddle in hand - purchased on the way - that does not have duel paddles.  Second could easily be the blue jeans, or just as likely the cotton hoodie.  Third or fourth on the list, although they can't be seen would be the additional cotton layers underneath providing warmth.  Fifth would be the obviously lacking spray skirt that hadn't yet been purchased.

The first several bends were easy on the wide river and I had almost decided to congratulate myself on the wiseness contained within when a tight right hand turn approached.  My little boat seemed long out there and the water current suddenly picked up, I struggled to move out of the current driving into the bank around the corner.  For a second the boat stalled before the inward motion grabbed it back into it's grasp.  I washed around the corner, avoiding the bank where the current pounded, by spinning out as the stream made sense of the waters movements.

There it was I thought with sweaty palms, I survived the unexpected without going over.  That decision must have let me relax as I progressed passed the next few turns.  It was there, somewhere around the half way marker, that I heard a thundering sound of water.  What was it?  Had I missed something in my scouting?  As I rounded the turn I could see the spray of water crashing just a few feet down into the water, probably from an irrigation canal feeding the surrounding farmlands.  It wasn't really a lot, but enough to scare me while moving....a strange feeling for any level of rider.

I didn't crash, or uproot out of the boat as I passed, but I was certainly feeling my heart pound under the life vest.  It was just as I passed successfully by the confluence that I noticed the strainer overhanging the entire width of the river.  My research at this point hadn't covered river obstacles or techniques to overcome them. Being my fist time on moving water I doubt it would have helped much.  Equally unknown was any meaningful re-entry technique that may have helped with what came next.

Planning - Pride and Fear

What do you do when on one hand, making a decision is a great feeling, but on the other being the realization of the potential consequences of what you are saying?

Let me put perspective on this....making a decision to attempt a river that is very seldom run by experienced kayakers might make sense if you are, if fact experienced with a “caique”.  
  

“.. almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”  -- Steve Jobs

I seldom take days to make a decision, and can't say that I also haven't been swayed by impulse.  Both of these came into play on the day I purchased a kayak.  There aren't many if any kayak specific shops in the Utah area, not to say there isn't a few good places to choose a boat, but being on a learners budget in kayak shopping really doesn't open the door to many options.

About the third store I visited that day I could feel the panic creeping in....I didn't have 800 bucks today - would I ever?  I was also pretty certain that fitting gear into some of these would limit every aspect of the coming decisions to make.  Also, shopping with your girlfriend who you only recently explained your newest plans to can add layers of unforeseen stress to a situation.

I was in the store I a shop at frequently a place I am comfortable in....I still visit the place regularly today.  If I couldn't do it here, maybe it wouldn't happen.  Perhaps buying a boat on almost impulse wouldn't prove itself that year, or maybe that's the strange feeling of motivation you get before making a purchase of a couple hundred dollars?

There is was, standing end to end and away from the other craft I had carefully inspected, green in color with almost a grin or a smirk somehow.   Within minutes I have perused it's depths and chambers marking requirements mentally off my hastily prepared list.  This seemed to be 'it', I was moving forward and soon I would be a proud new boat owner.

Learning the River - Push Pull or Drag

Hi - My name is Joe.  For years, growing up in Utah I heard about one fascinating scout trip or another, time and again about this almost mysterious place called the Escalante river.

In my teens and early twenties I still had never made it to this area.  My interests were turned in other directions, raising kids - a job, and all of the excitement that surrounds this period in life.  During my mid-twenties I was locked in college pursuing a dream, hoping that these efforts would untie me from the long hours and weekends it took supporting a family.

Finally in my thirties, every excuse was exhausted and I would make my first venture into the Escalante area.  Would time be to short, as were the dollars supporting my travels?  Either way at least finally I could say I had been there. How would I travel?  Who would want to go with me?  With so many miles or terrain where should I start or end?

These questions were all that I needed to rekindle the wonders that I carried of this place as a child.  I immediately began plans to expand and explore into the area.  The Colorado Plateau is unique in many ways, it's landscape that twists and bends in every way except a straight line.  The colors seem to dip and change with the shadows and sun.  It is filled with boundless wonders and change and you travel mile after mile, but perhaps its most unique feature is the seemingly endless remoteness that envelopes this area.

How was I to take what I needed, to support myself in the extremes that make the hours of the day?  With almost barren rocks and distance between water or shelter could I enjoy or even survive these conditions?   Pouring over maps and information only compound the questions...can it be enjoyed?  Can it be done?

These are all fair questions when you consider this area, and especially curious when you consider the river itself.  The Escalante river was the last river to mapped in the continental United States.  It's length wasn't even attempted until May 28, 1948.  This is also considered to be one of the crooked rivers in the US.

So it was this path that lead me to the decisions to take on the area.  To attempt the river itself, cutting through more than 75 miles of carved sandstone to it's confluence with Lake Powell.  It would be this journey and the preparations to support it that inspired a quest that continues even today.